A Boothy Bones Christmas
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Herein are 12 stories for the 2015 Bonesology Christmas Challenge
1. Chapter 1

A Boothy Bones Christmas: A Bonesology Christmas Challenge Story

Chapter 1 Missing Holiday Spirit

As Christmas approached, Brennan was surprised by Booth's apparent change of heart regarding their celebration of his favorite holiday. He had always insisted that certain practices be observed inviolate, that none of their Christmas tradition be altered or eliminated during the month preceding December 25th. This had been true since she'd first met him. Even though Parker's time with him might vary depending upon Rebecca's scheduling whims, her partner had always done certain things with his son each year. Some years their celebration took place on Christmas Eve, or several days later, but Booth stuck to tradition in how they decked out their tree, attended church, and opened gifts. This year, she felt like asking if Jacob Marley had replaced her normally jovial husband, for Booth's mood was much darker than usual. Not that she blamed him; his brother Jared's death had affected him deeply, and the resulting criminal investigation had proven much more snarled and difficult than their usual cases. Booth had been spending a great deal of time in the back yard of their new home, hoeing and spading a plot of dirt. He wouldn't tell her his plans for it, nor allow her to observe his activities. He had asked her to stay out of the back yard entirely until spring approached. Attacking the soil seemed to give him some relief from his anxieties, so she had agreed to do so. He'd also erected a low privacy fence around his intended garden plot, further obscuring his handiwork.

Booth's enthusiasm for decorating their house had fallen to an all-time low. When he had told her to purchase a small Home Depot Christmas tree for their living room rather than searching piney lots for the perfect enormous fresh cut tree, she really started to worry. But he was faithfully attending his GA meetings, and showed no signs of relapsing into gambling, so she held her counsel and hoped the Universe would right itself. His decorating their front yard was limited to one light string wound around the lamp-post, and some candy canes stuck upright in the ground along the sidewalk. Even Christine was asking why Daddy had changed his holiday routine. The only signs of normalcy were his printed boxers and gaudy striped socks. Booth had collected quite a wardrobe of holiday undergarments the last few years, and he continued to wear a different deign each day. She clung to the small comfort this gave her, and chided herself for fretting over insignificant details. Except, she knew, they weren't unimportant.

The weather around Washington DC had been unusually temperate this year, without so much as one hard freeze. Their table conversations frequently involved the likelihood that climate change and global warming were finally affecting daily life. Brennan still found herself puzzled as to why Booth ran the lawn sprinkler for several hours each afternoon. Surely watering dormant plants and bare earth was a poor use of natural resources, but she said nothing that would upset her pre-occupied spouse.

Finally, early on Christmas Eve morning, Booth snapped out of his grinchy mood and declared that he wanted to show his gardening project to Brennan and Christine. Barely waiting for Brennan to finish her first cup of coffee, he blindfolded them in the kitchen, then took each by the hand and ushered them out onto the back porch. Both mother and daughter were mystified by his strange behavior. Once down the steps, he lifted Christine into his arms, then guided his wife down a newly-laid stone pathway. After progressing some thirty feet toward the back of their property, Booth stopped beside Christine's tree house adorned oak tree and placed Brennan's hand on its trunk to steady her balance.

"You can take off the blindfolds now," he directed them happily. Surprised by his twinkling eyes and merry tone, Brennan looked around. Before her was a carefully tended little garden. Several small _Ilex opaca,_ American holly plants, a spindly _Thuja occidentalis_ , also known as white cedar, and a _Juniperus virginiana_ or eastern red cedar sapling were growing there. Booth had added several blooming potted poinsettias, and planted _Silene caroliniana,_ the wild pink, which would bloom in the spring. A nondescript shrub nearby sported several dark green waxy clumps of mistletoe. Brennan could only gape in wonder at the tiny winter garden her husband had created. He grinned at her like a small boy revealing a wondrous surprise, which indeed it was.

"Booth, how did you do this?"

"When I started raking leaves a few months ago, I found these two little cedars growing wild out here. Apparently they sprouted by themselves one eastern red cedar, one white cedar. And it gave me an idea for memorializing Jared. He loved the smell of Christmas trees as much as I do, and these two little guys reminded me of us, Mutt and Jeff, you know?"

"Mutt and Jeff?"

"Some old comic strip characters; never mind. The point is, I thought a little garden out here would make a nice tribute to him, and give me a place to remember him when I'm blue. See the rock I had engraved?"

Brennan noticed a smooth flat stone which read ' _Jared's Garden 1975-2015_.' Booth had also placed a simple stone bench along one side of the garden, up against the oak tree, so someone could lean back and enjoy the verdant scene.

"Sorry I've been so secretive lately." Booth bent down and broke off a sprig of mistletoe, raised it over Brennan's head, and kissed her. Then he moved it slightly and kissed Christine, who giggled in response.

"Daddy, you're silly, but I like your garden. I think Uncle Sweets would like it, too."

Booth looked at Brennan over their daughter's head as his eyes grew misty. She leaned over and kissed him. "Jared would be pleased, Booth, and Hank would love it. It's a perfect place to regain perspective and remember those we love. You've done a wonderful job of selecting native evergreen plants which can withstand Maryland's chilly winter climate. But the poinsettias, not so much."

"Okay, I admit, I bought them. I figured we could bring them into the house to decorate it. I'm starved, how about making some pancakes?"

oooooooooooooo

Later that evening, as Brennan was standing in the closet, considering what to wear to church, Booth stepped close to her and kissed her soundly. Then he pointed overhead. Ten minutes later, as she applied her makeup, he kissed her again and pointed upward. She broke into laughter. Taped to the ceilings of both their closet and master bathroom were sprigs of mistletoe.

"There's plenty more where that came from, Bones. I've put it in the kitchen, and the nursery, and Chrissy's room, and the foyer, and over the couch! You'll get lots of Christmas kisses from me tomorrow!"

Brennan hugged her husband hard, and kissed him back.

"Now you go dress Christine, and I'll get Hank ready, or we're going to be late for your midnight services, Booth. Merry Christmas!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chocoholic Family

After listening carefully to insure that he was alone in his man cave, Booth slipped the bag of chocolate chips out of the crevice between the seat cushion and armrest of his recliner, unclipped the clothespin holding it shut, unrolled the top of the plastic bag, and shook a portion of the tiny treats into his palm. Leaning back, he opened wide, dumped the tasty handful into his mouth, chewed them slowly, and closed his eyes; savoring their rich flavor and creamy texture. He loved being a grown-up, with the freedom to enjoy his favorite snacks anytime he wished, without parents or Pops telling him he'd spoil his dinner. His Grams had been quite strict about eating too close to mealtimes.

Of course, Brennan was a conscientious eater, and carefully monitored the healthy diets of her family, but Booth had circumvented her proclivity for insisting on nuts and fruit. He'd learned where to squirrel away various chocolate delights to satisfy his sweet tooth. Or so he thought. In reality, Brennan knew all his favorite hiding places and sampled his stash in judiciously small quantities from time to time, carefully consuming only a few pieces of candy to avoid detection. Although she was loath to admit it, Brennan was just as much a fan of chocolate as her husband.

Christine had apparently inherited her parents' mutual admiration for the cacao tree _(Theobroma cacao)_ , for her drink of choice at the Jeffersonian daycare had always been chocolate milk, whenever such a special occasion treat was allowed. Now that she was in elementary school, she always selected chocolate milk from the cafeteria's cooler. Baby Hank was too young to have experienced this delicacy, but Brennan privately joked to herself that she'd not be surprised if her son tasted chocolate when she nursed him.

Three weeks before Christmas, Booth awakened early on Saturday morning, slipped down to the kitchen and prepared his 'world famous chocolate chip pancakes' to coax his sleepy wife and kids out of bed. Garnishing a tray with her favorite free range Civet Kopi Luwak coffee steaming in a brand new Christmas mug, Booth returned upstairs to their bedroom. After placing the heavy laden tray on her bedside table, he woke both kids. Christine clambered drowsily onto their bed as Booth placed Hank in his wife's arms. The little boy jabbered happily, patting his mommy's cheeks with his chubby little palms.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, Bones! Chop, chop! Literally!" We've got to go cut down our Christmas tree this morning. And while we're at it, we're taking Michael Vincent to pick out one for Hodgins and Angela! Don't want to keep your best little buddy waiting, do you, Chrissy? Go get dressed as soon as you gobble down your pancakes!" Booth's jovial urging was met with a grumpy complaint from his wife.

"Booth, how can you be so irritatingly cheerful this early in the morning, especially on a Saturday?"

One of the most amusing revelations about his Bones had been that she was not a morning person. This intrigued Booth because she always arrived quite early for work at the lab, and he'd assumed she enjoyed getting a head start on her days.

"Come on, Bones, I've got the digital kettle brewing hot water for cocoa right now. I found a new kind of organic hot chocolate at Sprouts Market earlier this week. They were handing out samples, and it's yummy. I bought a box especially to celebrate our Christmas tree selection shopping expedition!"

ooooooooooooooooo

True to his word, Booth brought along three thermos bottles filled with thick creamy luscious hot chocolate. He had filled thermal sippy mugs for the children to enjoy in the car, and handed Brennan a travel mug of hot chocolate once they were all belted into the SUV. His supply was ample enough to warm them halfway during their search for the perfect tree, and another refill once the tree was loaded onto the roof of his truck. Despite the totally unscientific likelihood that one's beverage could affect eye color, Brennan was becoming convinced that she and Christine would soon have brown eyes like Booth and Hank instead of their normal blues.

Having found two perfect trees, Booth delivered Michael Vincent and an enormous blue green Noble fir to the Hodgins estate, then returned his family to the warmth of their mid-century Mighty Hut II. Once he'd centered the fragrant Balsam fir in front of their living room window, he climbed into the attic and handed down boxes of lights and ornaments.

Her holiday spirits rejuvenated by an afternoon spent napping in Booth's embrace, Brennan took a turn brewing more hot chocolate for the evening's decorating marathon. Booth untangled the Christmas light strands like so much DNA, then wound and wove them into a sparkling web within the dark green boughs. As Christine danced to Christmas music, Hank jabbered and waved his arms excitedly, watching their parents unwrap each ornament and its memories. The chocoholic Booth family Christmas was underway.


	3. Chapter 3

There's No Days Like Snow Days

"I'm telling you, Bones, when I was a kid, Jared and I would always hope and pray for enough snow to fall during early December that we'd get a snow day, and it NEVER happened that way. Once school had let out for Christmas break, THEN it would snow and snow. And although we enjoyed the heck out of snowball fights and building snow men, and making snow angels, we'd always complain that we didn't get any days off from school courtesy of the 'white stuff', as Grams called it." It was a few days until Christmas, and Booth was seated at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee; watching his wife create a centerpiece arrangement from a variety of evergreen cuttings in a shallow vase, accented with holly and mistletoe sprigs, and staring out the window at the rapidly accumulating snow. "Invariably, it would snow like crazy during our days off, and then clear up right before we had to return to school."

"Booth, I would have thought you enjoyed school, since you were talented in sports, academically successful, and made friends easily," Brennan commented.

"Don't get me wrong, I liked school okay, Bones, but what kid doesn't like an extra day off from class now and then? Surely you liked having snow days. After all, it meant you had Max at home, since he'd be off from his high school science classes too."

"Yes, Dad made snow days something special," she remembered. "He made the best hot chocolate, and the straightest snow men, and the most firmly-packed snow balls. Russ and his friends always tried to convince Max to join their team in a snowball fight, but since he had many of the neighborhood kids in his classes, our father always claimed he had to maintain his neutrality. However, he was certainly willing to coach both Russ and me on how to hurl a snowball most effectively, once we were in our own backyard. I guess that was my first physics lesson. Russ didn't care about the science behind a good throw, but it fascinated me."

"You were a squint even as a kid!" Booth teased his wife fondly. He stood up, rinsed his cup in the sink, and walked to the basement door. Opening it, he called down the stairs, "Chrissy, Michael, are you guys ready to make some snow angels and help me build a snow fort? Hank is too little, but I'd bet a trip to Chuck E. Cheese that Michael and I can beat your mom and you in a snowball fight, Missy."

"Booth, you know that place doesn't offer healthy food," Brennan protested.

"A triple cheese pizza's not gonna hurt these kids occasionally. We haven't taken Christine there since Parker was home last summer, Bones. Have a heart!"

"Okay, Booth, you're on, but if Christine and I win, we're going to the Veggie Palace for dinner."

"Bones, if you make that wager, Christine will join our team!" Booth predicted.

"Humpff! I could beat all three of you. However, for Michael's sake, I'll give in this time. But no pizza next week for you, Seeley Booth!" his wife declared.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, every party has a pooper," sang Booth in his most off-key voice.

"Daddy, you're hurting my ears!"

"Last one dressed is a rotten egg," Booth chortled, hugging his daughter. "Michael, get your duds on quick. We've gotta discuss our strategy! These girls are wily creatures!"

"Uncle Booth, Daddy's been teaching me about angles of flight, and he says the same applies to snowballs," Michael Vincent grinned up at Booth.

"Good man, your dad! I've had plenty of trajectory calculation and precision artillery training in the army. We'll beat these girls for sure! We're not waiting for slow pokes, let's get busy building our fort!"

oooooooooooooooo

After an hour of pommelling each other with well-aimed snowballs, the quartet of snow warriors were ready to head back inside and warm up. Booth grabbed Brennan around the waist and kissed her cold pink cheeks. "How did I get so blessed and s lucky to have someone as wonderful as you in my life?" he asked her.

"I feel the same way, Booth. We are both very fortunate, aren't we?" She kissed him back soundly, full on the mouth, and murmured, "I'll show you how fortunate I feel, later tonight."

"Hmmm, I can't wait," Booth whispered back. "And you are lucky that Michael and I won the snowball war, so we eat pizza tonight, my dear, or Christine would be in full mutiny, I think," he assured her.


	4. Chapter 4

A Bonfire for Booth

The gifts had been opened, and the Christmas tree's sojourn over Booth and Brennan's Christmas celebration with their children was drawing to a close. Booth relished this time of year completely; from the hectic fun of purchasing gifts and wrapping them with all the covert skill of a Ranger sniper, and the cacophony of his family tearing into their presents, to the peace which Midnight Mass brought to his soul, and the frigidly crisp night drive to and from the service.

He also cherished the week between Christmas and New Year's when the world took a breath, his work schedule slowed somewhat, and he could reflect upon their past twelve months of living. This evening, Brennan had gone out for a belated gift exchange and leisurely dinner with Cam, Daisy, Angela, Jessica, and Agent Genny Shaw. Thirteen year old Christine was babysitting young Seeley Lance, Hank, and Danny downstairs in his man cave for the evening by hosting a holiday movie night for the younger kids.

He was keeping an ear open for any sign she needed help, but so far, his newly teenage daughter had handled her responsibilities without a hitch. Booth still couldn't believe his little girl was maturing so quickly, too fast to suit her father. He'd started a fire in the living room, tuned the television to this evening's Flyers hockey match, filled a tumbler with two fingers of his favorite Scotch, and propped his long legs up on the coffee table, careful not to scratch it with his candy-cane-sock clad feet. With the sound turned down, his mind wandered through the events of the past year.

The year had been successful in his estimation. They'd solved some convoluted crimes, putting some bad guys away, their kids were thriving. Parker would arrive tomorrow for a holiday visit. His year of forensics graduate study at Knoxville's University of Tennessee was going well, and he'd soon complete his PhD. Booth chuckled wryly to himself. His son was studying at the same type of body farm that had once turned his stomach during a case with Bones. Her scientific tutelage of Parker over the years had borne impressive results and Booth couldn't be more proud. His son had been awarded summer internships at the FBI, New York Coroner's Office, and through Rebecca's influence, with Scotland Yard.

The only 'fly in his ointment' was a proposed ordinance change currently under consideration by the Rockville City Council, which would discontinue the Twelfth Night tree burning ceremony held each January sixth. Booth loved this tradition, which closed the Christmas season. He understood the environmental concerns, but it was only once a year and he hoped the practice would continue. Brennan and Christine, of course, saw the matter differently.

But Booth remembered going to Christmas tree burnings with his grandparents, and even a few times with his own parents, and the fragrant smoky smell held many touching memories for him. He sighed to himself. Having lost Pops a few years back, the annual ceremony held a special significance for him. Booth made sure to repeat all of Pops' favorite parts of the evening each year: hot apple cider in a thermos to drink at the burning, Grams shepherd pie for dinner, and a mittened hand-squeeze passed among the family members as the gathering ended.

Well, he thought to himself, _If this is the last Twelfth Night Bonfire I have to enjoy, I'll just have to make sure it's memorable. I'll invite Angela, Hodgins, and Michael Vincent, and ask Angela to take some photographs. She'll love the atmosphere, and her pictures are stunning. I can pay to have them bound into an album for each of our families to remember the evening._

Booth's reverie was suddenly interrupted by the sound of breaking glass downstairs.

"Dad! Can you come help me? The boys just knocked over one of Mom's pottery vases, and I don't want them to get cut! Can you bring me some rags to mop up the water, please?"

Descending the stairs with an armload of rags, paper towels, and trash bags, Booth was met by Sweets' tearful son.

"It was my fault, Uncle Booth, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break Auntie Bones' pot!"

"Hey, calm down, kiddo, no harm done. These are sold at Home Depot; we'll just buy another one tomorrow," Booth soothed the weeping boy. "Why don't you take the boys up to the kitchen for some milk and cookies, Chrissy, and I'll mop this up."

"Thanks, Dad. I'm sorry I didn't handle it all by myself."

"Nope, honey, you did the right thing calling me. We don't need any trips to the hospital for stitches tonight," Booth assured Christine. "The ER's will be busy enough tonight without us adding to their workload!"


	5. Chapter 5

An Angel Gets His Wings

 **A/N: You'll have to suspend reality to enjoy this story. It's an homage to "A Match Made In Heaven" by none other than the inimitable master/mistress of fan fiction: Razztaztic. Except that it deals with Booth's grandparents. Not everyone may be aware of this fact, but Ralph Waite was an ordained Presbyterian minister with a master's degree from Yale University's Divinity School, and worked as a religious editor for Harper and Row, in NYC prior to his acting career. Later put off by organized religion for 5 decades, he returned to active participation in a California Presbyterian congregation 4 years before his death in 2014. This story is set in the spot I envision him spending eternity for his many contributions to enriching human life during his years on this earth.**

Hank Booth stepped off the silvery escalator as the ever-rising step he occupied approached the landing. He shook his head to clear the confusion and gazed back in wonder at the billowing clouds through which he had passed so smoothly. Through a sunlit gap in the clouds, he could see himself far below, lying in the hospital bed, looking somewhat like a Lego figure a child had forgotten to put away.

A voice caught his attention, and he turned in the direction from which it emanated. "Henry Joseph Booth, step this way, please. It's time for your intake appointment." Hank heard this directive with a chuckle. The last time his full name had been used to summon him, he'd taken a big hunk out of his mother's blue berry pie before dinner….Of course, the priest had addressed him thusly on his wedding day as he and Margaret exchanged vows, but this voice sounded more parental. Deep and authoritative, yet kindly.

Hank walked forward and found himself standing in front of a large partially open gate. It was quite tall, and appeared to be made of a pearlized wrought iron, which glowed translucently, yet seemed quite impenetrable. An old fashioned roll top desk stood to one side. Seated there was a bearded man in a white belted tunic. "This can't be happening," Hank thought to himself. "It all looks just like that story book I read to the kids, first Joe, then Jared and Seeley, even to Parker a few times."

The man smiled. "It is rather hard to believe, but the children's books describe it most accurately. Welcome to Heaven, Mr. Booth, you've arrived at, wait for it…. the Pearly Gates, and yup, I'm St. Peter," he finished with a flourish of his hand.

"Your life has been judged as righteous; so in you go, I've got other folks waiting their turn. Your guide will be waiting inside the gate. Come back by if you have any questions or concerns, but your guide has been chosen especially for you, and should be able to show you the ropes quite expertly." He extended a strong calloused palm and shook Hank's hand with a powerful grip.

Hank blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, and stepped through the shining gates. He looked around to get his bearings and spotted a familiar figure, seated on a bench that seemed stone-solid and cushy soft at the same time, under a flowering pear tree, watching him with a smile. She stood up as he approached.

And Hank Booth broke into a jog, then stopped dead in his tracks. He wasn't fighting to catch his breath, his knees didn't hurt one bit, and he realized he felt like dancing a jig. The woman came to meet him, took his hand, and they did exactly that.

"Oh Margaret, it's been so long; you're a sight for sore eyes. Am I allowed to kiss you?" he asked.

"Of course, you ninny! I'm your wife! Give me a proper hug!" the woman said, and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

"You're my guide?" he asked in wonder. "You think I'd let anybody else do this gig?" she asked him with a familiar twinkle in her eyes. "Not in a million years, Hank Booth! I've been waiting a good long time for you to get up here! Come on, let me show you around and introduce you to someone who's been waiting to meet you."

She took his hand and led him to an outdoor park café area. Seated at one of the tables was a pretty dark haired woman, a number of years younger than Pops or his wife. She extended her hand and smiled at Hank. "I'm Ruth Keenan, Tempe's mother. Or you might have heard Max call me Christine," she said. "Please join me." Margaret motioned for Hank to sit down, and a cherub flew over with two cups of coffee, made just as they each liked it.

Ooooooooooooooo

Hank soon learned that time had little relevance up here, but some events on earth were noted in the celestial sphere. When Christmas rolled around each year, the inhabitants of heaven made a point of checking in on their families back on earth. So Margaret led him to a particular cloud grove lined with comfortable cloud benches, overlooking a gap in the cirrocumulus. Ruth Keenan was waiting for them.

The nation's capital dome was visible below. Once the trio were seated, they gazed down, focusing on a particular house whose details and inhabitants were perfectly clear despite the distance. Hank listened intently, hearing his grandson's thoughts without effort.

Brennan's voice, the high pitched tones of their great grandchildren were easily distinguished. A few hours later, Parker's deepening voice rang out below. Before long, Max Brennan's merry voice joined the cacophony of family members, and Ruth smiled happily. "Oh, Max, you always made Christmas so special for Tempe and Russ."

Hank said softly, "You raised quite a special girl, that one." "Yes, you're right, she is, thank you," Ruth answered. Pops looked over at his beloved wife, his eyes shining. "I didn't know angels were watching us, all that time," he said in wonder. 'Yup, you bet, I've been keepin' an eye on you all these years," his wife responded fondly.

"He Has Too," she added significantly. Merry First Christmas in Heaven, Hank. I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

The Dessert in the Detective

The first Christmas she spent with Booth after their wedding. Brennan decided to indulge her husband's love of pies. On Boxing Day evening, she invited their friends over for a movie night and holiday treats. Employing a bit of ingenuity to surprise him, she dispatched Booth and Christine to the library and Redbox to rent or purchase an assortment of their favorite Christmas movies. Having gotten him out of the way, Brennan called Sid to alert him 'the coast was clear' and he could deliver her special order. In addition to being the gastronomically talented owner of Wong Fu's who could please any of his diners with a meal they hadn't even known they craved, Sid was an exceptionally gifted pastry chef whose pie crust melted in your mouth, and whose fruit fillings were 'food for the gods' in Booth's frequently-stated opinion. Shortly after placing the call, Brennan greeted Sid at the front door, and took the first of several boxes he held to the kitchen counter. The combined aromas of the various pies was heavenly, making her mouth water despite her disdain for cooked fruit.

"I didn't forget your preferences, Dr. Brennan," Sid smiled. "I've included a chocolate mousse pie, and a pecan pie for you among the assortment I baked for this evening."

"They all smell delightful, Sid. I can't thank you enough. Booth will catch their scent all the way from the shopping center!" Brennan handed him a check in payment and shook his hand.

Thank you for the generous tip, Dr. Brennan. I hope you and your guests enjoy them greatly this evening. Merry Christmas!"

Brennan had served a huge belated lunch of pizza and homemade mac and cheese to eliminate the need for fixing dinner. She'd recruited Christine to keep her daddy occupied, and the little girl was delighted to play her part in her father's upcoming surprise. She dawdled at the store, piddled at the Redbox kiosk, and prowled through the aisles of library books, begging her father to read her several stories as they shared her favorite overstuffed couch in the children's reading area. She suggested they stop for cranberry Sprite, which she insisted her mother had forgotten to purchase, proclaiming it as her and Michael Vincent's new favorite drink, a very necessary addition to their imminent movie session. Finally, Booth had had enough, and headed for home. Christine smirked to herself. She had recently learned to tell time, and one of her gifts from Santa was a Mickey Mouse watch. Glancing at her wrist as she climbed into the SUV, she knew she'd succeeded in reaching the time her mom had requested for their return.

Booth pulled into their neighborhood, admiring the lawn decorations his neighbors had put out this year, and realized their guests had already arrived. Several cars lined both sides of the street near his house. He swung into the driveway as Cam drove up, rolled down her car window, and asked if she could park her Miata next to his truck. Knowing how proud she was of the little black sports car, Booth readily agreed. He exited the truck and grabbed the bags holding library books and movie DVD's.

As he frequently did, the moment he entered the foyer, Booth breathed deeply in satisfaction over the life he and Brennan shared. But this time, the comforting scent of home was enhanced by another enticing odor. _"PIE!"_ He strode into the kitchen, inhaling deeply as he went. By the time he surveyed the feast of desserts waiting on the island countertop, Booth had nearly hyperventilated.

"Bones, I LOVE you! You got all my favorites! Thank you!" he crowed in delight, hugging her. Their friends chuckled at his obvious pleasure. "You even got Grams' sour cream raisin, strawberry rhubarb, and rum mincemeat. Are we eating first, or watching movies before we can sample these goodies?" he asked her.

"How could I expect you to postpone your favorite treats, Booth?" Brennan smiled in response. "Everyone come help yourselves. Then we'll view the movies once your sweet tooth is satisfied. Though I've never understood how incisors or canines can be confectionary in nature."

A knock sounded at the front door. Answering it, Brennan stepped aside to let Aubrey and Jessica come in. Booth spotted his co-worker from the dining room, and declared "You're welcome to join us, Aubrey, but you'd better leave one piece of each kind of pie for my breakfast tomorrow morning!"


	7. Chapter 7

The Fascination in the Frost

The first school holiday of Christine's Christmas break dawned crisp, clear, and extremely cold. During the previous night's news program weather report which predicted frigid -5 degree Fahrenheit temperatures, Brennan had decided to give her daughter the same delightful science lesson Max had once demonstrated for her. She set her cell phone alarm a bit earlier than normal for a day off, Having requested a day off from working in the lab, which Cam was only too happy to grant, she set her cell phone alarm to chime a bit earlier than normal She slipped out of bed, belted her robe, and headed for the kitchen to prepare coffee. Measuring out the freshly-ground roast beans, she relished their hazelnut aroma as she dumped each scoop into the basket, and reviewed the list in her head.

The tree house Booth and Wendell had built in their backyard provided the perfect opportunity for experiencing one of the freezing effects Brennan had found amazing as a child in Ohio. Max had taken her up to the roof of the high school building to carry out that particular exercise. She remembered the thrill of the normally forbidden venue, the bitter wind in her face, and her father's joy at sharing his love of science with her. As she stirred the batter for blueberry pancakes, she grinned to herself at the memory.

Once the hotcakes were ready, she woke her daughter by lifting the sleepy child in her arms and carried her to the kitchen table. After juice, milk and syrupy goodness were consumed, they dressed warmly and went outside. In addition to the spacious garage, Booth had erected at the back of their yard, a small unheated garden storage shed. Its small window provided natural light, and their first observation point. Brennan unlocked it and pushed open the door.

"Look at the window, Christine," she directed her daughter. "See the frost pattern on the panes?" Because this shed isn't heated, you can see the ice crystals on the glass. Your dad's fertilizer gives off a slight amount of humidity, and the moisture freezes as the windows cool at night as well."

"Ooh, Mommy, they're so pretty!" Christine exclaimed.

Next, the pair went outside and observed frost on already harvested annuals in their vegetable garden, and among the leaves and blossoms of her Asian pear tree. Their evergreen and maple trees were likewise dusted with frosty white crystals. Brennan showed her daughter the tiny patterns on each one, then took her back inside for hot chocolate.

By this time, Booth was awake, reading the paper. He swallowed his last bites of pancake and went to the garage, returning with a coiled orange power cord. He knew what Brennan was planning and went outside. She boiled water in her electric tea kettle, poured it into their mugs and added the cocoa mix. Allowing Christine carefully to stir both mugs, Brennan refilled the electric kettle.

As they munched a cookie each and drank the hot chocolate, Christine watched Booth climb the ladder to her tree house with the orange cord holder over his arm, and asked, "What's Daddy doing outside?"

"You'll see when we finish our snack."

Bundled up once again, mother and daughter returned to the back yard. Booth's head popped over the railing. "Come on up, Chrissy, just be careful."

Ascending behind their child, Brennan carried the electric tea kettle and handed it up to her husband. Once she entered the crowded little house, Booth attached the kettle to the orange cord, which he had unfurled as he climbed the tree. The other end was plugged into a lamp post below. Before long, the kettle was burbling merrily.

"Ready, Chrissy?" Brennan asked with a smile. She lifted the kettle and stepped out onto the small landing. Booth guided Christine to join her.  
"Good thing I built this tree house really sturdy," he remarked. "There's a lot of weight up here." His brown eyes twinkled at Brennan, who gave him a playful glare.

"Okay, honey, now watch!" she removed the kettle's lid, and flung its boiling contents over the side of the little porch. As the heated water fell, it condensed into a cloud of visible steam, tiny water droplets which froze into miniscule ice crystals. The mass descended with a swooshing sound, dissipating as it fell.

"Oooohhh!" Christine was temporarily speechless, unusual for the expressive talkative child.

Over her head, Booth and Brennan shared a smile. He watched his wife's blue eyes sparkle like the ice crystals. "Was that as great as you remember?" he asked her.

"Even better! Let's go call Max to come over and do it again!" Brennan exclaimed.

"Your dad will love that!" Booth said knowingly. "Imparting the wonder and fascination of science to the next generation, what could be better?" he asked as he kissed her.

"Can I call him?" Christine asked excitedly. She moved to the ladder and scuttled down like a crab.

"Yes, but BE CAREFUL!" her parents said in unison.


	8. Chapter 8

The Remembrance in the Recipes

Several days before Christmas, Booth and Brennan picked Christine and Hank up at the Jeffersonian Daycare after work, bundled everyone into the SUV and drove home along streets sporting LED holiday snowflakes and candy canes. Pulling into their driveway, they unsnapped car seat restraints and released the kids, who promptly dashed for the front door. Entering their home, the family was met with delicious smells. Hank Booth stepped out of the kitchen, a full length plaid apron looped around his neck and tied around his waist, protecting his green and read holiday sweater. He looked a bit like an oversized elf.

"You guys ready to eat?" he asked with a smile. "I made your granma's meatball spaghetti for dinner."

"You've been cooking more than that, Pops! I smell gingerbread and brownies!" Booth remarked after inhaling deeply. "Gram's recipes, too?"

"You betcha, Shrimp, there's none better than Margaret's Christmas cookbook repertoire!"

"Hank, will you share her recipes with me?" Brennan asked.

"Honey, I brought you all her originals," Hank responded. "I know she'd be pleased to pass them on to a wonderful cook like you. I know you'll take care of them, and you're every bit as talented in the kitchen as she was!"

Brennan stepped over and hugged the older man. "I don't have any of my mother's recipes," she whispered, unable to speak. "This means a great deal to me, Hank."

He patted her back. "I know, Temperance, honey. That's partly why I brought them, also because I know you'll treasure them as much as she did. Margaret loved to bake Christmas goodies. It was her favorite time of year. Guess that's why Shrimp here loves Christmas so well."

"Okay, enough blubbering. You guys go get changed into something more comfortable than work and school clothes, and let's eat before this spaghetti sauce gets too thick!"

Once dinner was eaten, Hank returned to the kitchen. He opened the oven, removed a red Waechtersbach platter from its warm interior, and carried it to the table. The plate was decorated with a whimsical green Christmas tree decked out in white garland, candles and stars. It was heaped with gingerbread men, ladies, and candy canes. The family helped themselves as Hank returned with another plate full of brownies.  
"My mother had one of those platters, I think," Brennan mused between bites. "You certainly livened up our dinner tonight, Hank. Everything was delicious. After the day I had, your cooking is most welcome and delightful. Thank you so much!"

"Margaret had a whole set of those dishes, but we sold them when we downsized a while back."

Booth smiled at his grandfather across the table. "Your gingerbread tastes as good as Grams did, Pops!"

"Yeah, Poppy, the little men taste really yummy," Christine agreed, her smile showing gingerbread teeth.

"Chew with your mouth closed, honey. No one wants 'See food' this time of year, or any time," Booth chided her.

"I don't think so," Hank responded. "I could never outdo hers, but thanks, anyway. I gotta try, because Christmas isn't complete without your Grams' goodies!" 


	9. Chapter 9

The first Christmas Christine was old enough to perceive what presents were, Booth and Brennan had a philosophical discussion prior to their first shopping trip undertaken to infuse their daughter's Christmas morning with delight.

Over his military career, Booth had been invited on a few occasions to spend Christmases with his Army buddies' families. Thus he had observed children other than Parker opening gifts on that most splendid morning of the year. Several of these youngsters had been endowed with WAY too many presents, in Booth's unspoken opinion. So many gifts, in fact, that the kids ended up ripping into a box, flinging it aside after barely a glance, and grabbing another package to open; without savoring or appreciating any of the objects they received.

He thought the title of one of Parker's favorite books, 'The Berenstain Bears Get the Gimmes' perfectly expressed the mindset of these over-gifted children, and resolved that his future offspring would not be placed in that unfortunate situation. Through the over-indulgence of their elders, these kids became what Rebecca succinctly called 'greedy grabbers'.

Booth and Jared had lived through lean Christmases, dodging their father's intolerance and wrath. Gram and Pops had given them security, warmth and love, but their resources were finite, and both boys realized that the budget for gifts had its limits.

Brennan, on the other hand, had experienced the sparsity of foster care Christmases. Although she espoused neither concept, she wanted to insure that their daughter appreciated the blessings and good fortune granted her by the accident of birth and parentage. Having ignored Christmas entirely for fifteen years in favor of helping restore identity to victims of war, the scientist wished to engender generosity and kindness in her child. Quietly observing Parker's behavior, she knew that Booth and Rebecca were raising him to be grateful, unselfish and sharing; and wanted the same for Christine.

ooooooooooooooo

And so it was that Brennan and Booth devised several Christmas traditions. One was serving a meal at the nearest homeless shelter as a family during the week preceding Christmas, the second was a limit of three significant gifts for their child. For Booth, this mirrored the Gifts of the Magi; for Brennan, it was a practical number set by Christine's age when she first understood presents. The third idea was selecting a card from the mall's Salvation Army Angel Tree and helping Christine shop for gifts for that child. Thus gratitude and giving back would develop as habits from her earliest awareness.

They filled the holidays with family time spent baking, wrapping, game-playing; together. The season was much more than receiving presents. The first year Christine had helped set the shelter's holiday table by putting napkins at each place setting. The following December, she laid out the flatware. By the time Christmas approached again, she had her own suggestions for her family's giving day, as she called it.

That year she was six, and Hank was an infant. They left him in Angela's care and drove to Pops' retirement center, where Christine handed out little gifts she had wrapped herself to the residents without families close by. The colorful cellophane tape-laden lumpy misshapen packages she placed in wrinkled shaky hands brought tears to the eyes of the old men and women who loved watching her carvort with Pops when her parents brought her for a visit. Their obvious gratitude made her eyes sparkle more and widened her smile. Booth and Brennan served hot chocolate and cookies they'd baked that morning. Hank, Sr. sat nearby bursting with pride. "Shrimp, Temperance, you're raising a little jewel there. Too bad Margaret's not here. Oh, how she'd love that little girl!"

"Gram can see her, Pops," Booth told his grandfather quietly.

"I know, Son, I know. I just really miss her at Christmas, you know? I appreciate the chance to spend Christmas with you more than I can say."

Brennan refrained from rolling her eyes, but smiled at their sentiments, missing her mother as well. Their drive back home with Pops riding along passed quickly as they sang Christmas carols at the top of their lungs.

When the family helped serve lunch at the homeless shelter the following Saturday, Christine brought 'candle' centerpieces she'd made herself for each table; paper towel and toilet tissue tubes covered in red and green construction paper, topped with yellow paper flames, and glued together in trios. She had also decorated other groups of tubes to resemble singing choir-robed children, with hand-drawn 'O' mouths, and glued-on googly eyes. The grizzled men and frazzled women were charmed by her creative efforts. By the time they left, Christine's smile was the widest of all.

ooooooooooooooooooo

On Christmas morning, she was out of bed way before sunrise as usual. But instead of dashing down the hall into her parents' room, Christine tiptoed to the kitchen. She removed two sippy cups from the cabinet, filled them with orange juice and capped them, then placed two donuts on a holly-sprigged paper plate. Juggling her load, she climbed the stairs and navigated the hallway with utmost care. Setting the food on the carpet to quietly open the master bedroom door, she picked up her surprise again, and placed them on her dad's bedside table.

"Wakey, wakey, Daddy! Chop, chop, Mommy!"

Hearing his customary morning exhortations proclaimed, Booth opened one eye. "Chrissy? It's 6:10 am, can't you sleep a little longer?"

"Daddy! I brought you breakfast! You gotta eat it before we do presents! Mommy, wake up!"

Brennan rolled over and peered at her daughter through sleepy eyes, wishing they'd started toy assembly earlier than midnight. "Morning, honey, Merry Christmas," she mumbled.

"Come on, you two, this isn't fair! You gotta eat my present!"

With that, her parents sat up in bed, and grinned at their proud little girl, feeling prouder still. "You fixed us breakfast?"

Christine handed them each a sippy cup and plopped the plate of donuts in Booth's lap. "You gotta share! Now hurry up! Hank's gonna wake up any minute! And then you'll hafta change his diaper and all that stuff! Eat up!"

Booth and Brennan looked at their daughter, standing by the bed, hands on her little hips, and smiled at each other, muffling the urge to burst out laughing.

"You did this all by yourself? How sweet of you! Run get a cup of juice and another donut, and come join us!"

Their daughter looked immensely pleased with herself, turned and ran out of the room. As her footsteps receded, Booth clapped his hand over his mouth, and laughed as silently as he could. Brennan's eyes twinkled merrily. "I think our plan to raise a giving child is working splendidly!" she told him.

"Better than we ever dreamed," he agreed.

Christine received a shiny royal blue bicycle, a science kit, and the entire set of Little House on the Prairie books. Her stocking was filled with tiny treasures; a Mickey Mouse wrist watch, a miniature magnifying glass, flavored clear lip gloss, various sorts of candy, nuts, and the same oranges and apples all Booth children traditionally found on Christmas morning. Long ago, Pops had explained to a disgruntled young Jared that the fruit wasn't just filling space.

"When I was little, oranges and apple were hard to come by in wintertime! We didn't get near as many toys as kids today, but it was a real treat to have fruit in cold weather! Especially in Philly! This is a family tradition, boy! Enjoy it!"

Booth smiled over Christine's head at Pops. His grandfather was ensconced in the comfortable leather recliner. The little girl was busy distributing presents to various family members. She'd worked hard to learn how to read their names. Brennan snuggled closer into Booth's side and kissed his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Booth! I think perhaps my best present this year is our wonderful little girl."


	10. Chapter 10

Favorite Cookies in Florida (Prompt: Cookies)

 **A/N: For this particular chapter of the Christmas challenge, I'm switching gears and borrowing the use of KEScrubbed's characters from The Family in the Tree, and Southern Hospitality, both of which portray the Florida relatives on her mother's side Brennan never knew she had until a multiple homicide case took Booth and her down south to investigate. If you've never read it, do so quickly, you'll be glad you did; it is an excellent 35-chapter saga of Brennan's spicy relatives who make Max and Russ seem rather tame by comparison!**

Having loaded the SUV with every item two young children could possibly need, their own luggage, and a large number of gift-wrapped boxes, Booth and Brennan were headed down I-95 to spend Christmas with her colorful relatives they had discovered during a murder investigation nine years earlier. Parker had loudly voiced his strong disappointment at not being able to come along on this trip. He and Max had accompanied the pair to Florida seven Thanksgivings ago, and Booth's son had thoroughly enjoyed meeting Brennan's extended family. He and his dad were elated that she finally had family to enjoy.

The ten-hour drive had required some planning to entertain Christine. Brennan's skeleton print _Thirty One_ utility tote basket, filled with games, art supplies, puzzles, and books, sat next to her booster seat behind her father. Next to her, little Hank babbled happily in his car seat while gnawing assiduously on his favorite teething ring. Christine was reading him a Little Monster story.

After singing every song they knew, counting cars by color, telling jokes, finding numbers and letters on license plates, and all manner of other car games, the family crossed the Florida state line. Leaving Georgia meant they didn't have much further to go. The last fifty miles to Green Cove Springs sped by and soon they were pulling into Lydia's front yard. Unsnapping car seat buckles and straps, Brennan lifted Hank out of the backseat as Christine freed herself from the safety restraints. She walked quickly across the grass, as scraggly as she remembered it, but before she'd reached the porch steps, the front screen door swung open and her aunt greeted her with a warm smile.

"Y'all come on in and have some of Mema's butter cookies! We've been baking since sun-up! Oh, Mama, just look at this baby, if he doesn't have Ruthie's eyes, I'm a gopher! Will you come to me, little guy?" Lydia crooned. The aromas coming from the cramped kitchen were enticing indeed. A tiny white-haired lady wiped her hands on her flowered apron and hugged Brennan tightly.

"Oh, honey, it's so good to see you again. These children are growing like weeds. They've doubled in size from those pictures you sent," Brennan's grandmother exclaimed. "Seeley, how was your drive down? You want some iced tea? Have a seat there, and I'll get you a glass."

Booth demurred, "Mema, you don't need to wait on me. I know where the fridge is. You just enjoy meeting your great-grandchildren while I unload the car."

Thirty minutes later, he'd carried their packages into the small living room and placed them under the white tree decked out in blue and silver ornaments and tiny blue lights. Meanwhile, Brennan had made gentle introductions between her aunt and grandmother, and her children. Hank and Christine munched happily on buttery shortbread cookies, and Brennan indulged in a butterscotch brownie, which tasted as heavenly as her mother's had. She commented as much to Mema, who smiled.

"Same recipe, honey. All my girls learned to make these cookies growing up. When we'd start our baking marathon, we knew Christmas wasn't too far off. Takes me a lot longer now to bake enough for all these kids. This family's got lots more people than it did when your Gramps was alive. I wish he was here to see these sweet babies of yours," her grandmother said quietly.

"Mema, I'm not a baby anymore; I'm six years old!" Christine told her great-grandmother. "But Hank's still a baby."

"Honey, I know you're getting big, but even your momma's still my baby!" the old lady said fondly. "Here, Tempe, have a butter cookie. We bought the butter from an organic farm down the road this year. Tell me what you think of how they taste. Lydia can't tell any difference, Sarah Leigh doesn't like 'em, and Ellie loves 'em. Gobbles them right down."

Just then the screen door opened and a tall attractive teenager came in. "Aunt Tempe, so good to see you! These are my little cousins? You want to come outside and meet Buckshot3?" she asked Christine with a friendly nudge. "He loves to play ball."

Brennan stood and embraced her, then nodded to her daughter. Christine took Ellie's hand and smiled up at her. "I'll ask Daddy to show you my dog on his phone. His name is Gretsky, and we got a picture of him catching the football Parker tossed him. He jumps up in the air and grabs the pointy end of the football in his mouth! After we play catch with your dog, can we have some more of Mema's cookies, please? They really are yummy! "

"I agree with you on that, for sure!" Ellie laughed. "Now last one out the door's a rotten egg!" And she took off running, with Christine in hot pursuit.

Mema took Hank out of Brennan's lap and settled in her rocking chair. "I'm glad you can be here for Christmas, Tempe. Just wish your momma was still around to share it with us."

Lydia came out of the kitchen with a plate of sugar cookies. "I need help decorating these," she said. "You think Christine would enjoy helping, or should we leave her to play with that hound?"

"She'd love to help, Lydia," Brennan responded and called to her daughter through the open door.

Christine came bounding in. "Mommy, it's so warm outside, too hot for Christmas, how's Santa gonna know to come?"

Brennan rolled her eyes at Lydia over the little girl's head, and her aunt gave her a reproving look. 'You'll see, punkin.' We've got lots of ways of keeping Christmas down here. Santa knows, don't worry. Now let's get some icing on these cookies!"

She tied one of Mema's aprons around Christine's waist. "Mema's so short, that fits you nearly perfect."

ooooooooooooooo

After a supper of ham and beans, Booth and Brennan took their children back to Mema's house for bed. Her little cottage looked like a slightly ramshackle doll house, but accommodated the visitors from DC very well. The bedroom across from Mema's held an inviting queen size bed. A second smaller room held a baby crib and a daybed. "Bethany and Ellie used to stay here after school while their mommas were at work, so I have beds for the little ones," the old lady had assured them. Tired from the long drive, Booth stretched out on the quilt-covered bed. "This is sooo much more comfortable than that bed we had to share at Lydia's," he chuckled to Brennan.

Brennan wandered back down the hallway to Mema's tidy kitchen. Her grandmother was brewing a cup of tea. "One for you, honey?" she asked, and Brennan nodded.

"Are any of the pictures hanging in your hall my mother?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. Here, let me show you."

As Mema pointed out Lydia, Ruth, Esther, and Judy in the various framed pictures, Brennan studied her mother's face, so very much like her own. The hallway collection showcased her mother and aunts at different ages; as babies, toddlers, little girls playing in the river, at high school graduation, and in simple wedding dresses. "We don't have a picture of your mother and Max," Mema remarked. They ran off and got married in Jacksonville, didn't tell nobody till a lot later."

"Who's this with you, Mema?"

"That's your grandpa Thomas, honey, finest man in Clay County!" Mema declared fondly. "He'd'a loved you, for sure!"

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The next evening, the entire family crowded into Mema's parlor around a rather out-of-tune upright piano, and spent the better part of two hours singing Christmas carols, in between funny stories told for Booth's and Brennan's benefit. Christine looked up at her mother with shining eyes.

"I see what Aunt Lydia meant about knowing it's Christmastime around here," she said.

Their sing-along was followed by plates of cookies and chocolate milk. "Too warm in these parts for hot chocolate," Esther winked at Christine.

On Christmas Eve, the entire family trooped into the little country church where Darren was associate pastor. The interior, decorated with white-lit Christmas trees surrounded by poinsettias, was fragrant with the scent of native evergreens; native Atlantic White Cedar and Southern Juniper. Brennan reflected sadly that Hodgins would know them immediately. She wondered how Angela's family was tonight. Though fully active in the lab, Hodgins was still in a wheelchair. She squeezed Booth's hand tightly and he kissed the top of her head.

The candle light service was brief but meaningful, and soon the clan was back at Lydia's house. The burgeoning pile of gifts under the Christmas tree left little room on the floor for children to sit. Brunswick and frogmere stews were served for dinner. Booth was delighted by the fresh seafood so readily available. After swallowing the obligatory three bites of stew, Christine opted for a peanut butter honey sandwich instead, careful to save plenty of room for more Christmas cookies.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Christmas morning was a cacophony of joy and excitement. Brennan had brought an afghan for Mema, which Angela had knitted. They gave _National Geographic, Smithsonian Magazine, and Jeffersonian Journal_ subscriptions to each family, charm bracelets to her aunts, and science kits to the children. Once gifts were exchanged, everybody hugged everyone else, as Booth and Brennan got back on the road.  
Christmas with the rest of their family waited back in Washington. Lydia and Mema handed a large red plastic canister to Brennan through the window; more Christmas cookies to share that afternoon with Max, Russ, Parker, and Pops.


	11. Chapter 11

Chansons de Noel (Prompt: Carols)

Booth and Brennan had decided to enroll Christine and Hank in an experimental multi-language immersion program being offered at the local public school each Saturday for the fall semester. The first language the children would experience was to be French, followed by Spanish during the spring semester if the parents were favorably impressed with the first results they observed in their children. The teachers encouraged children in the same family to practice at home, and it didn't take long before the siblings realized they could communicate with each other in a sort of secret code for fun. Both their parents had had taken French during high school and college, and each had used it in their work to a limited extent over the years; Brennan during her digs, Booth while he was on deployments. Upon hearing their children conversing in French, they decided not to share this fact with the kids and eavesdrop on their little exchanges. The pair chuckled nightly over the comments made by their offspring, once the kids were in bed. As Thanksgiving approached, Hank and Christine began singing in French as well. While the adults didn't recognize most of the words, they could certainly identify the melodies without much trouble. The kids were preparing for a program which would be the culmination of their semester's study, performing _Chants de Noel_ for their parents _._ Hearing the traditional tunes made _Douce Nuit, Vive le Vent, Mon Beau Sapin, Minuit Chretien_ , easy to recognize; Silent Night, Jingle Bells, O Christmas Tree, O Holy Night, others unfamiliar to Booth and Brennan were well-known and beloved French carols: _il est né le Divin enfant, Les Anges dans Nos Campagnes,_ and _Petit Papa Noel_ orIt is the Holy Child, and Angels in the Heavens, Little Father Christmas. It seemed to Brennan that singing made the words easier to remember, even for her and Booth, who frequently hummed them in the shower during early December.

One morning Christine overheard her father's morning serenade and reproached her mother, "You guys aren't supposed to be listening to us practicing, Mommy, you'll spoil our surprise."

Brennan smiled fondly at her daughter, "Honey, we'd have to be deaf not to notice your singing. Even Grandpa Max enjoyed your songs after dinner last Saturday. We promise to keep your secret. We won't tell any other parents."

On the last Saturday before Christmas right after lunch, the Booth children were dressed in their Sunday best clothes before their parents even mentioned it. The little concert was scheduled for 2 p.m. and Hank was vibrating with excitement. Christine's cheeks were flushed pink in anticipation. The program went off without a hitch, and all the families in attendance agreed that the semester's study had been a success. Booth swung Christine around and hugged her tight. Then he solemnly shook his son's hand, and hoisted Hank up onto his shoulders. To the children's surprise and delight, Parker came striding down the aisle of the auditorium, a huge smile on his face, Rebecca right behind him.

"Mom told me you were performing when we landed, so we came straight from the airport. You guys sang really well! Can you teach me those songs while I'm home, you think?"

"Christine, Hank, your songs were lovely; well done!" Rebecca complimented them. "Seeley, Temperance, Merry Christmas to all of you; I'll see Parker on New Year's Eve, if he needs a car; he can certainly use mine some of the time."

"We've got it covered, Becs, but thanks, and Merry Christmas to you and your folks. Simon wasn't able to come over this time?"

"He's flying in on Christmas Eve," Rebecca told him. "Well, I've got to get going; be good, honey, tell Pops hello for me, okay?" She stood on tiptoe to kiss her tall son good-bye. "Merry Christmas to all of you!"

"Who wants pie at the diner to celebrate our choristers?" Booth asked. Receiving a chorus of affirmative replies, he suggested, "We could go caroling tomorrow afternoon, if you two can lead us; what'cha think?"

"We can do that!" Hank and Christine agreed. "That'll be fun! And then we can have hot chocolate and cookies afterwards."

A **A/N: Many thanks to the French reader who took the time to correct my title on** **"** **il est né le Divin enfant"; I so appreciate the information! Merci beaucoup.**


	12. Chapter 12

The Magic in the Movies (Prompt: Christmas Movies/Music)

The Saturday before Christmas, Christine set up the dated movie projector in her parents' living room, while Hank and Parker moved furniture aside. Having turned the machine on, the siblings checked the expanse of ivory-painted wall to be sure nothing obstructed their view. Their parents were due back from the FBI Foundation Christmas luncheon any moment.

Since his final retirement from FBI administration, Booth had served on the selection board of the charitable trust, helping award the college scholarships to sons and daughters of injured or fallen FBI agents, struck down in the line of duty. He had been offered the Chairmanship of the Foundation, but preferred the hands-on contact with and mentoring of young recipients which his current position entailed. Brennan, as always, had insightful opinions on the field of applicants and never hesitated to offer her keen assessment of which youngsters should be chosen.

Parker carried in the small carton of silver canisters, which he had wrapped in Christmas paper. A few months earlier, his grandmother Marianne had contacted him during her recent singing engagement at a nearby Virginia honeymoon resort, Raspberry Plain. She and Reggie played the wedding venue circuit; The Grand Atrium at Tysons Corner, Apple Blossom Plantation, Rock Hill Plantation House.

She'd told him she had a few home movies from when his dad was very young. Booth had been disappointed by her sporadic contacts, and she felt it was more diplomatic to give the film to her grandson. Having screened the movies, Parker thought they'd please his father. It had been a decade since Jared's untimely death, and Booth was more at peace with his past.

The grown Booth children had each collected some Christmas movies their parents had never seen. Christine added some of her children's school holiday plays and Christmas mornings spent with Andew's parents. Hank had contributed film of his twin boys in the hospital nursery, born as they were on Dec. 23. The enchanted nurses had placed them in the same bassinet, as they cried when separated and wound themselves together in peaceful sleep when side by side. Parker had included footage from his Christmases in England with Rebecca and Simon, in holidays spent apart from his father.

The Prius swung into the driveway, and their parents emerged from the small car, Booth unfolding his lanky frame, given some difficulty from his cantankerous left knee. His dark hair was streaked with gray, but his eyes were sharp as ever behind Ben Franklin glasses. Brennan's auburn updo was silvered a bit, but she wore glasses only when reading her journals. Noticing the cars lining the curb, the pair hurried to the front door with expectant smiles.

"What, no grandchildren with you this time?" Booth asked the moment he spotted the trio.

"They are all off Christmas shopping for you guys," Christine answered. "Andrew had to work, so Molly and Josie took charge of the herd." Hank's and Parker's wives handled their young sons very adeptly, as did the lone little girl, Megan. Christine's daughter could charm not only her Grandpops, but also her four male cousins with no difficulty whatsoever.

"We have a surprise for you," Parker told his father. "Here, open it."

"Old home movies? Where did these come from?" asked Booth, staring in amazement into the small box. "Marianne brought them to me this summer. She thought you should have them; gave me the projector too," Parker said. "We're all set up to watch them; even made popcorn and iced tea."

Brennan smiled at him, "I thought I smelled some buttery goodness, sounds wonderful." She squeezed Booth's arm and gave him a significant look, communicating silently as they always had. _"Just go with it, the kids want to please you; let's see what's in store here. You've always loved Christmas memories."_

Booth's solemn face brightened a little. _"Okay, Bones, but don't be surprised if I cry some,"_ he winked back at her. "Let's do this; I want to see what a fool Jared made of himself back then," he mused, his smile widening slowly. The family perched on arm chairs, sank into the comfortable couch and recliner, stretched out on the thick carpet.

"How do you start this thing?" Christine asked, and Booth reached over, pressing a button he hadn't touched in years. They spent the next two hours laughing, remembering, sniffling, and telling stories as the film revealed Christmases past. Two dark headed little boys cavorted through the flickering scenes.

Then updating technology, the siblings shared their DVDs of more recent Christmases with Booth and Brennan, chuckling over Holidays with the In-laws, British Boxing Days, and Twins Take Over the Nursery, as Parker dubbed their movies.

"That was the best Christmas gift you could give me, looking back, remembering," Booth declared. "And the grandkids have grown so much since these videos were taken. Hard to believe they were ever that tiny! Thanks, all three of you; I've enjoyed this more than I expected, so very much!"

"Guess we finished just in time," Parker remarked. "Here come the troops!"

The front door opened and excited children burst inside, all talking at once.

"GrandPops, Grammy, wait til you see what we got you!" "Don't tell them, yet!" "You're gonna spoil the secrets!"

Molly and Josie followed their children into the room. "Glad that shopping expedition is finished!" they exclaimed. "Did y'all have fun reminiscing?"

Brennan smiled at her daughters-in-law, "Yes, we certainly did. It was so thoughtful of you to allow us the time; those Christmas movies were quite entertaining. I have a big pot of spaghetti, and Booth made Pops' sauce. Let's eat before you go home."

An hour later, appetites were sated, and little mouths were wiped clean. The young parents got their kids into coats, mittens, and scarves. "See you next Wednesday! Merry Christmas, Dad, Mom, Bones!"

As they closed the door to peace and quiet, Booth grinned at his wife. "I'm going to set up the camera for opening presents without anyone knowing it. Then on New Year's, we can watch new Christmas movies!"

 **A/N: I enjoyed writing these short Christmas stories. They seem to have lost most of their audience since the first of the year, but I hope they will bring smiles to readers who find them here. Happy New Year!**


End file.
